Buffy A to Z
by LoreoftheFaye
Summary: This is a collection of short Buffy Drabbles, each title starting with A-Z
1. Able

"I can't do this!"

The anguished cry of a blond Slayer echoed through the library and her Watcher was forced from the stacks where he'd been looking for a specific text to peek out at her in disbelief. She did look a little unusual but otherwise he could spot no difference in her. He came out from behind the shelves and descended the stairs to where she was standing and looked down at her, a resigned look on his face. He knew what had to be done even if she didn't like it.

"You are singularly the most able girl I have ever met. You'll get along."

"But…"

"No buts. It's only a couple of hours."

She smoothed the formal dress over her frame and look at him with a very pouty expression. "Yeah…with Cordelia."


	2. Bastard

"What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"If you have to ask you'll never know."

Buffy vaulted the five foot stone wall that separated the rest of the world from the church's private graveyard where the special people were buried, priests and other high ranking member of the church. Their mission was simple, but not really clean or quick. Why she was stuck with Spike she'd never fathom. The Slayer couldn't think of a worse companion for a job like this but like it or not he was the only one that could help her.

"So what are we looking for again? The Gem of Hammertoes?"

"Gem of Hemaetos." Spike corrected, "stuff of legend, that is."

Giles sent them after it, surprise surprise. Apparently it was kept by the members of the church and buried in some secret place in the cemetery at the turn of the century before it was dropped out of history, lost everyone assumed, until now. Apparently the mojo it worked was pretty bad. The sooner they had it the better off they'd be, before it fell into the wrong hands.

Only problem was only evil people could handle it, or, as with the guys that kept it, someone who performed a certain ritual that was lost in the records, too. That was why Spike was along. Like it or not he was still evil, even with a chip in his head.

"Right. That. What does the Gem of Hamandtoast,"

"Hemaetos."

"Whatever. What does it do?"

"Rumor has it it makes baddies get badder."

"I could have guessed that. Be more specific."

"Think of it as steroids for evil."

"Oh." That didn't sound good, or promising.

She moved toward the mausoleum ahead and paused by the door. It looked plain enough, no wonder no one thought to look there. Sunnydale wasn't a very old town, as far as old went, and it was so very boring, drab. The door was bolted, though, and covered in crosses. Clever, in a church, to disguise the extra precautions that way.

"That Cardinal guy was entombed in here, according to Giles. He was the one that babysat the thing. It's probably in here."

She tried the handle and it didn't budge. She ran her hand over the door and looked for anything, any clue, that could help her unlock a door with no visible lock. Spike hung back and waited, unable to touch the door to help. He was looking, though. Vampire sight was better than human sight in the dark.

"There." He pointed.

She followed his gaze and found the hidden catch woven into a metal scroll work with gems inlaid. The button was almost impossible to distinguish from the other gems. She pressed it and sure enough, the door popped and slowly swung open. A puff of dust came wafting out to coat them both. Apparently whatever was inside hadn't been disturbed in a very long time. That was good news for them. It meant the gem might still be inside. They had a chance to uncover it.

The tomb was sparse, not a lot of hiding places presented themselves. She'd honestly expected more security for a badass gem of this supposed magnitude.

"Don't move!"

Spike came hurtling into her, sending her to the floor in time for a metal spike to come crashing down from the ceiling where she'd been standing. The trigger she'd tripped activated the trap. They activated more as they tumbled to the ground, rolling together until they came to a stop. More traps went off, varying affect. The one that came closest to them was the spike that came down right next to Spike's head. Buffy tensed on top of him, waiting for any indication that there were more.

"I always knew you liked it on top."

Buffy groaned in disgust as she looked at Spike's wolfish grin and tried to get up very carefully.

"This makes things a lot more interesting."

They split up and Buffy tried to search very carefully, avoiding the triggers when she could help it and getting out of the way when she could not. It made the search take a lot longer than it should. Finally, they had no where else to look at but the tomb itself and she really didn't want to dig around in old bones.

That's when she felt it, a flare from behind her that made her entire body go rigid and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She turned around slowly and faced a truly terrifying sight, Spike but not Spike. Worse.

"Found it."


	3. Cross

"This...this thing."

The Master considered the cross resting on the dais of his underground prison. Darla was behind him, sitting on a raised platform, leaned back and smiling as she watched him, poised to learn at the feet of the Master, as it were. She was confidence and swagger and why shouldn't she be? She was his right hand, the one that he loved best, his pet.

"It's just wood, nothing more. It's just two planks arranged together in a pattern that is pleasing to the eye. Alone, it means nothing. Just wood."

He turned around and faced his protege and put his back to the cross he was philosophizing about. Seeing it terrified the beast inside him, as it was doomed to for the rest of his existence. He controlled his fear very carefully and any sense of pain he felt. Through the untold years of his life he learned to savor the good and parcel up the bad emotions, thoughts, sensations and ration them out little by little when appropriate. He truly believed he could conquer any fear through careful effort and patience.

"If it is only wood, my dear, why do we fear it so?"

Darla didn't give much thought to why; it was a condition of their being, as a slight against God or the Powers that Be. Whoever it was in charge they were cut off from heaven.

"I don't know Master." she answered at last, after much consideration. To her it didn't matter why - the end result was all that mattered.

"Faith, Darla. Faith is what makes those two pieces of wood into something more. Humans are scared, covetous creatures. They need something to protect them, even if its only an idea."

"But if it's only an idea, Master, why does it burn?"

"Because they believe it can. Whether or not their God exists or actually listens to them it is transformed because they believe in it. You must never underestimate their ability to hold onto their ideas and cover themselves with them. It's actually rather remarkable how much they let their perception shape their reality, forming truth from fallacy, and ignore what is right in front of their faces."

He picked up two sticks from the floor of the cavern and examined them as he raised them up. There was nothing extraordinary about them. They were just sticks. But yet he held them in that selfsame pattern in front of his protege and saw her flinch and felt his hands smoking, saw it rise in front of his eyes before letting the sticks fall.

"You don't believe in their God." she pointed out. In her mind he should not have been able to create a cross from nothing.

"Actually, I do."


	4. Dawn

There was a grey fog hanging in the air shrouding the last vestiges of night from giving way to day. The wind whispered through the trees, branches stark and naked in the October cold. The streets were empty and the town was completely abandoned except for those few that could stand to do something against the rising tide of danger. There weren't many and she'd already buried no few of her friends in the fight. Everywhere she looked there was cold, emptiness, death.

She turned up main street, her sword strapped behind her. There was blood dripping from it down to the pavement, stuff she probably should have cleaned from the blade. Giles would have scolded her for such things but, alas, he was not there to wag his finger. That was partially why she was still here and partially why she'd lost so much of her hope. She couldn't leave him alone in the cold ground without anyone. The part of her mind that knew it wasn't him wasn't listening to the part of her heart that couldn't let go. She'd loved him, God, she had! It was too late as he lay there in her arms to say so but she did, whispering it over and over pleading with him to stay with her, just breathe, live, and not to leave her alone this way.

He hadn't obeyed and here she was left bereft by loss. She didn't even feel like a whole person anymore.

A demon appeared up ahead and scented the blood, turning it's head to follow the smell and growling when it spotted her. A grin appeared tugging her lips up just slightly. This was all that remained, the fight, until she joined him again. That day was probably approaching faster than she knew and yet she couldn't bring herself to care. Take out as many bastards with her as she could before then. As it charged she felt the sun break through the fog illuminating her from behind as she slid the sword from her sheath.

Faith sighed. "This is for you, Rupert."


	5. Exclamation

"I love you. Do you hear me?" She paused, suddenly embarrassed from her loud outburst and quieted. "I love you."

"Now?" His incredulous voice asked as he chanced a glance at her with his wide jade eyes. Something, whatever it was that was trying to get in, thumped solidly against the wood door under his hands, a thing he was trying to keep out. "You want to do this now?"

"Right now." She returned, eyes narrowed and serious. "I'm saying I love you Giles. I'm saying it out loud and I don't care who knows."

Dire circumstances aside it was terribly romantic and hit upon his poetic sensitivities. It was unbearably sweet but as the door thumped again and he searched desperately for something to help barricade it he didn't have time to linger on such niceties. He wanted to, though. He truly did.

"Buffy you must understand that this isn't quite the right time or how I imagined hearing those words from your lips."

"But you did imagine them..."

"Yes." He paused and looked at her, catching her eyes, "many times."

"Then why didn't you ever SAY something? Anything? Just a hint would have been nice."

"It was untoward of me to say something, how could I? You're my Slayer. All else should be the furthest thing from my mind."

"I'm not just a Slayer and you know it."

"Yes, yes I do, but don't make me say so. I'm begging you."

"Why?"

"Because I can't afford to love you Buffy, though I know bloody well I do. I always have, in point of fact. I would have spared you anything if I could, borne all the weight on my own shoulders so you never had to feel one second of pain. If I could have I would have been the Slayer and died for you."

"No." She whispered. "No, don't die for me. Live with me."

An arm burst through the door and she bashed at it with an axe.

"It starts now."


	6. Fantasy

"Teenagers. They're disgusting. All they care about is dry humping each other and spending as little time being useful to society as possible."

Snyder's lip curled up in disgust as he watched the students of Sunnydale High, his students, mill about the campus crisscrossing to their morning classes. Rupert Giles was in tow behind him carrying an armload of books. Sadly this was a song he'd heard too many times from the illustrious principal. He knew the damn melody by heart and could recite the words on his own, nearly verbatim. Soon the little weasel faced bastard would go on to talk about how children drain the economy, destroy good values, and generally dwell in a hormone driven frenzy to disrupt as much as possible before finally dying off or becoming useful, if such a thing could be done.

Inevitably it always went this way and Giles listened to it generally with half an ear, staying silent for the most part until prompted or prodded by his superior in title only. The thing that really grinded his gears, the one thing that made him bite his tongue until he drew blood was the end of his little rants. All of them, every one, usually came full circle to his beloved Slayer.

"And that Buffy Summers..."

"Now see here you pompous overblown little cockroach!" The words burst out of his mouth before he was aware of them. His mind wouldn't allow him to process for if he did he might never say them at all. "I understand that you don't like children and I can understand the fact that you are a miserable little rat that enjoys making everyone around you miserable as well which is something you have proven quite expert at. Now I think I have been more than tolerant to listen to these diatribes of yours time and again when I suspect the source is a deep seeded jealousy. Perhaps if you could attract the attention of a woman, or even a passable goat, you might be a bit better off."

Snyder backed up a few steps away from the librarian, trying to ignore as much of the outburst as he could and sputtering a little. With each step Giles imagined something heinous happening to the little worm. First he was struck by lightning, then he was a literal worm and was stepped on, and then he was dressed in a frilly pink tutu with a tee shirt that read "I love children". The principal's back hit a wall then and Giles' retribution was gaining attention from the student body.

"I think we've had quite enough of your brand of terror in these halls, Principal Snyder. I don't ever want to hear a single hateful word cross your lips ever again or so help me I will show you the meaning of being miserable. Do you hear me?"

"yes.." Snyder looked down. "I said do you hear me?"

Giles was shaken out of his daydream and saw an expectant principal looking at him. Apparently he hadn't made sufficient placating sounds and he pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. Pity that none of that was real...he sighed.

"Actually, I didn't hear a word."

The Watcher smiled as he walked away savoring the dumbfounded look on the smaller man's face.


	7. Guitar

Giles often wondered why the guitar he owned sat mostly silent in the corner of his living room. It was one of the things from his childhood that he proudly carried forth with him into being an adult. His voice, for all his self deprecating remarks to the contrary, was actually strong and sure and his fingers remembered how to play each time he picked the instrument up no matter how long it had been since the last time. He always had some doubts, of course, but they proved fruitless before the first full measure was played.

More than that, playing used to soothe him. Music had always soothed the savage beast, as it were, and was part of the core that made him who he was. His record collection was still sitting on a shelf near the record player with bands and titles he used to love listening to just to catch a nuance he hadn't heard before or to drift away to something he could appreciate.

When he was younger he used to claim to be one of the founding members of Pink Floyd to impress the ladies and it worked, too, more often than not. He'd take them back to his place and show them his guitar. Oh, no, he couldn't possibly play. Those days were long behind him. Oh...if you insist.

It wouldn't take him long after that to get him exactly what he wanted and for another night his bed was full and warm.

Looking back it seemed so reckless; he couldn't remember half their names or how many girls he'd had this way. He couldn't imagine not caring for any of them and not allowing himself even the simple comfort of opening up and feeling. His goal had been to escape, not to embrace. So selfish...

Still, he was older now and the guitar itself had not wronged him. It shouldn't be punished for its owner's mistakes, never allowed to sing its beautiful song. The body was still in remarkable shape considering the time and trials it had been through with him. Why he brought it to Sunnydale was anyone's guess, except that it made him feel comforted to have it near, to know he could play whenever he wanted to.

The Watcher lifted it from the rack it leaned against and sat down with it, strumming experimentally across the string. After tuning one to the right pitch he smiled. This was what he was passionate about. This was what he'd always enjoyed, the full circle he came round to. Music...

Giles started playing a low melody in his flat, letting the sound echo through the living room as he sang a song he'd written a long time ago for someone he thought he might of loved if given half the chance. That chance never came but the song endured all the same with his voice rich as it carried to tune. He thought of her as he sang her song, a bittersweet tug at his heart.


	8. Home

Dear Buffy,

I realize that written letters are an archaic means of communication for you but it's a great deal easier for me to write to you this way rather than via one of those infernal computers. I do hope you'll forgive me the antiquity of this.

London is exactly how you might expect. It's dreary here but the more I dwell within the city the more it begins to call to me that it is home. It won't ever truly be my home, not without you lot, but I am settling into my old flat and continue my efforts to rebuild as best I may. Faith has even come to stay with me for a short time. I think it might do her some good to benefit from individual attention. She hasn't had a lot of that and she was never as strong as you were.

Willow rang me and let me know that you went on vacation for a little while after Dawn left for university. It put me at ease to hear of it, let me tell you. Seek normal, Buffy; I can't stress that enough. Seek it as often and as hard as you can. I want you to start living your life instead of merely chasing it. You deserve a respite from the hardships life has put in your way. I only hope you will chase that respite with all of your heart and feel some measure of peace.

On that note please pass along my regards to Dawn when you speak to her next and let her know a letter will be in the mail shortly for her as well.

I find the longer we are apart, Buffy, the more I hear in my head words that I wish I had said to you, wish I could say. As you know I am a man surrounded by literature and fluent in many different languages but all too often it seems the words do not come as easily as I might like no matter the circumstance. Though I supported your idea about releasing all of the Slayers to be activated part of me panged reluctant as well. To do that would be to separate the thread that bound us from the beginning as I was chosen for you and you were chosen for me. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention but when at last we were free all I saw was the end of an era with that crater in the ground. I knew then that things would not be the same with us and am little surprised now to see I am right.

I miss you Buffy.

More than a student, more than my Slayer, more than my friend or family. In Sunnydale when I was bereft of my beloved England I found only one solace and that was in you lot, your friends. More than that I found something unspeakably comforting in you. You were my home when I had none and for that I am beyond my capabilities to thank you. I wanted you to know that now, that I miss you. I miss being able to feel like this is home anymore. Not for you to pity me or feel compelled to lessen this distance between us. I want you to know for no other fact than that it's true.

You will always be my home, Buffy; and my heart and house will always be open to you should you find you need it.

Giles


	9. Instant

He couldn't actually say when everything had changed. The day had started out nicely enough, a cup of tea and a fresh blueberry scone. He was just stepping out of the shower when she arrived and he answered the door in a simple pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt. As embarrassed as he was by his state of dress for receiving callers her kiss told him not to be so shy.

"Miss Calendar."

"Jenny."

"Of course," he could have smacked himself and grinned at his own stuffiness. She managed to make everything into a joke, even his own foibles. "Jenny..."

"Rupert."

The wry smile on her lips was beautifully mischievous and looking at it made him forget most everything else. He went upstairs and tugged on his customary tweed despite the warm day ahead of them. When he came down again he finally noticed the basket set on the console behind his couch. How charming! She actually owned a picnic basket. He went into the kitchen and gathered his own contribution to the meal - a freshly chilled bottle of white wine.

"I was thinking the park would be nice. Find a tree, look at the clouds..."

"Sounds innocent enough."

"That depends on you."

She winked and he was left speechless for a few fumbling moments. Her ability to do that to him never ceased to amaze. The Watcher followed her out the door and into the street. Sunnydale looked lovely in its sunny splendor, the palm trees wafting back and forth in the breeze. Looking out over it one would not think of the Hellmouth to protect or the creatures that prowled as soon as day turned to night. He didn't think of them at all, he simply followed that basket and her beguiling smile to the park on a real date.

They spread a blanket on the grass under a large oak and though he protested her lost the jacket and his shoes and sat down, smiling more to himself than he had in ages. This reminded him of growing up and taking trips to his family estate in the country, in Bath. He hadn't been on a picnic since those days as a boy, drenched in sunshine and laughter.

As time passed they talked about a lot of things including his estate and his horses and her beliefs as a techno-pagan. They lazily discussed philosophy over lunch and art and music over wine in the afternoon. He laid back on the blanket after a time, watching the orange rays filter through the green oak leaves as she curled against him, propping her head up on his shoulder. Her fingers threaded through his and he felt his heart melt.

That was it, the moment he fell in love with her once and for all.


	10. Jaberwocky

'" 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe. All mimsy were the borograves and the mome raths outgabe."

"What does that even mean?" The blond demanded, watching as the demon circled them spouting sing-song lyrics. It didn't appear to want to do them any harm but she was tense all the same, ready for anything to pop out at them. Before Giles could open his mouth to say anything Faith did it for him, surprising the the others as they stood back to back.

"It's a poem, from Alice in Wonderland."

"Yes. Lewis Carol said it was based on a dream he'd had. Not even he knew what some of the lexicon meant. It's a rather fascinating account of..."

"Later, Giles?"

"Oh, yes."

The relatively little fellow was still dancing around them, sprinkling dust from his hands and looking positively gleeful. They were trapped in a cage as it recited.

_"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!_"

A distant rumble sounded and the little fellow laughed harder, doubling over to clutch its brown belly. Buffy's eyes widened and she looked over to Giles to explain now, something useful. Faith even looked unnerved by this whole thing.

"That is not a Jabberwocky." Buffy insisted, mostly to convince herself. "They're fictional."

"Hint of truth..." Giles managed, equal parts horrified and curious and he kicked himself for the curious bit but couldn't help it.

"Not helping." Even Faith managed to sound strained as the rumbling came closer to the backdrop of the little imp demons fiendish glee. Now they needed a plan and quickly.


	11. Kneel

"G?"

His ear perked at the sound of her voice but he didn't turn around to look at her. His office was much like the one in the old library at Sunnydale High though now in England. He was hunched over his desk with a book open and a pot of tea cold and abandoned on the desk just beyond the lamplight. It had probably been hot at some point but then he got so absorbed into whatever he was doing that he forgot it entirely. Unfortunately, that was not an uncommon occurrence.

"Giles!"

The brunette would not be ignored tonight. She often stopped by and was seldom entertained while he was working but she did it anyway because Buffy was not around and when left to his own devices the man suffered for it. Rebuilding a Council was hard work, after all, and didn't afford him many breaks. Seeing this Faith began to be distressed by his constant vigilance and decided she needed to intervene, for his own good.

They'd been living together for over a month now and were patrolling and acting as Slayers and Watchers should - one on one. Both of them felt better for it. They found more in common than they ever imagined possible and she felt it was her duty to watch out for him which she was doing...in her way.

He finally turned around and spied her in the Catholic school girl outfit she wore that fit well over a Slayer's body. She'd drawn more than a few stares and catcalls on her way over but they didn't bother her at all. He was the one she came to see. Watching his jade eyes sweep over her body made her smirk, the expression tugging at her lips just so. He didn't say anything for a few long moments; he only looked. Finally they traveled up to her face again and he spoke.

"That's a little far fetched, even for you. Don't you think?"

"What?" She tried to play innocent and gestured to the short skirt and the white socks that reached her knees. "You don't like it?"

"It's ridiculous. Wherever did you get it?"

"From a nun." He didn't buy that for a moment and gave her a look. She laughed. "I have my ways ok?"

"I can't imagine what possessed you. You interrupted my work for this?"

He gestured to the books, the abandoned tea, and the dim office light, all the elements that had her concerned. She came forward and deliberately took his book and set it on top of the nearby file cabinet much to his protesting. He reached to take it back before it was out of reach and she stopped him.

Slayer strength was not a fair advantage.

"Now see here, Faith. What's in your head? Stop this moment and let me get back to my work. What do you want with me?"

"Take the night off, G."

"I will not. I have too much to do, Faith. This is nonsense. Go home. I'll be out to patrol with you later."

"No."

She took ahold of his shoulders and urged him to sit down, much to his annoyance, and he stared up at her with those eyes, exasperated and confused.

"You still haven't told me what you want. I assume all of this has a point. If I'm not going to be doing my work just what would you have me do?"

"Me."

"I beg your pardon?"

She sighed. For being smart he really was unbelievably thick sometimes. She straddled his lap, letting her skirt pool over the chair. He didn't stop her though he did vocalize a sound of disbelief and his eyes once she was settled burned into hers. They met and for a few long breaths they squared off, each will battling the other for victory. She arched an eyebrow at him, a challenge, and in response he drug her to him and kissed her deeply, plundering her mouth for its taste in his passion. She sank against him and his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, settling her over his lap.

When she pulled away she was panting.

"I'm your school girl tonight, G. We can fuck on your desk and you can punish me when I'm bad but promise me that for a while you'll just live a little."

His mind played in a fierce war with his libido, having been denied for quite a while an intimate touch of any kind. It wasn't like she was underage or innocent. And the costume, while ridiculous for her was alluring. He was a man, after all, and could only bear so much. What she was offering others had only ever dreamed of - control. He gulped and felt his pulse quicken to her challenge, to those words, and he grabbed her wrist using magic enough to make it hurt a little.

"Kneel."

He made his choice.


	12. Lucid

He blinked at first and then his eyes swept around the area in front of him. When had the world turned into a Salvador Dali painting? The landscape seemed to melt into itself, and the world was a mass of colored blurs, indistinguishable for what they should have been if everything was in its proper shape. Where was Buffy? Willow? Anyone?

He sat up and looked around again noting that the Slayer was not with him, nor any of her friends. That was his first clue that things were not like he thought them to be. He finally rose to his feet, felt dizzy for a few long moments, and then moved forward. There was really no where to go around here, no destination he could see that would be preferable to where he was now. As he thought it a line of trees appeared on the edge of his vision, peripherally, off to the left. It took him a minute to spot them, though, and he decided a clear forest was probably his best bet. It offered shade and, if necessary, an place to his and gather weapons.

It took him a while to cross to the treeline and he marveled at the sights around him. A large lake of red water was to his right and a square hill of grey stone to his left. Trees melted in the moonlight, drooping like wax figures in the heat.

He reached the trees and leaned against the nearest one, winded, though he hadn't thought the walk to be exceptionally long and hard. Someone giggled briefly off to the side, feminine laughter. He turned, trying to follow it, his eyes seeing nothing but dense trees and darkness beyond.

"Buffy?"

The voice giggled again but didn't seem to want to respond with a name.

"Who's there?"

A figure appeared across the clearing from him, seemingly out of the air. He nearly gasped in surprise but kept his ground.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, Rupert. I don't want anything."

"How do you know my name?"

"I ought to. I'm your guardian in this place."

"Guardian? What are you protecting me from?"

"Perhaps it would be easier to think of me as a guide."

"A guide? To where?"

"In due time. I'm Lara."

"Lara...you look familiar."

"I ought to. I'm a blend of many women in your life: Jenny, Deirdre, your mother, your great aunts, Buffy."

"How is that possible? How do you know about all of them?"

"Hadn't you guessed?"

His expression grew darker as he looked at her, unsure what this game of questions was supposed to gain him. She seemed to make vague and artform.

"Guessed what?"

"Rupert, you're not out there anymore. Your mind..."

"I'm inside my own mind."

It made a lot more sense. Looking behind him he saw the cemetery he left behind suddenly solid in form and color. His own body was clearly visible where he'd come from next to a mausoleum. Blood pooled around his head. A rift in the ground prevented him from returning and his heart went cold with that thought. He took a moment to breath, try to think. The action was impossibly hard.

"Coming here signals a deeper descent into my own mind. I'm in a coma."

"Not quite. Rupert, let's go. We have a long distance to travel and not a lot of time to do it in."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Stalling won't help. You know who I am now."

"No!" He paused and noticed his hand was balled into a fist and that the fist was shaking. "Yes," he admitted at last.

"Who am I?"

"You're...you're Death."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "And that means?"

"I'm dying."


	13. Mission

Most girls get to worry about their hair. If their clothes are last season or if the band they like is coming to town. They get to gossip about boys in the courtyard and cheer lead or play sports or...something. None of them know what it's like to save the world. Most of them don't even know what danger they're in when they walk down the street at night. Sure, they worry about the usual things but the things that go bump in the night? Probably never crosses their mind.

Not me.

I not only think about those things, I seek them out. I find them wherever they are and I make them go away. I'm one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to slay the vampires and all the demony goodness of the Hellmouth. I am the Slayer.

My Watcher's pretty big on that speech. Me? Not so much.

I mean, if you stop to think about it people say they carry the weight of the world on their shoulders but they don't mean it. I'm sure they've got their reasons but when it comes down to it the world doesn't actually end if they don't do their job. No Hellmouth will open to swallow the world whole and demons won't run amok in the streets. I mean, let's face it. I'm on a mission where I have to figure out the plural of Apocalypse. I use words like amok and examine dead bodies for bite marks.

So yeah, my social calendar is on the outcast side of full.

Well, I guess it has its benefits. When you're in the middle of it you can't hear anything but the rush of blood in your ears and it's like the world slows down. You see things coming and you feel this power surging through your veins. I know the world's still spinning because of me. That's not something I can forget even if it means my social circle is down to just three people.

Fair trade.


	14. Negotiations

"Oh come on, Giles!" She whined, "all work and no fun makes a dull Slayer."

"I should be so lucky," the Brit deadpanned back, pinching the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses for good measure. "And for the last time, no. I've extended you certain allowances already because I know you need them but on this I will not bend."

"You never know. You might like it!"

"I most certainly will not! Whatever are you thinking, Buffy?"

"Please! Just a little one?"

"Of all the things you could do for fun I have a hard time imagining that this will satisfy your curiosity."

"It's just one day. One afternoon, even. Then we don't ever have to talk about it again."

The uptight librarian continued to balk at her request knowing that whatever she had in mind would likely be highly inappropriate, not to mention embarrassing, awkward, or some combination of all three that would land him squarely in the middle of the seventh circle of hell. How she could even dream up these things was anyone's guess and it never ceased to amaze and disappoint him when she did. Each time he'd put her off as politely and sternly as he could but she always came back to it again.

Did other Watchers deal with this sort of thing?

"No, Buffy. I can't even imagine...no, I simply don't want to imagine what you'd want me to do."

"What have you got to lose?"

"Where to begin? My dignity? My self respect? My sanity?"

"Oh come on! You've done worse."

"Perhaps I have but that was a long time ago. It's not something I care to relive."

The blond huffed, looking like she was on the verge of giving up much to the man's relief. She slammed herself down into one of the plush chairs near his sofa and crossed her arms over her chest in frustration and protest. The scowl on her face said she was likely relenting but certainly didn't like it.

"Why can't you just trust me?"

"I do, Buffy, immensely. But for the final time I am not allowing you to give me a makeover."


	15. Obscure

"Why is it always bad things that are prophesied to happen? Why can't it, just once, read that puppies and daisies fall from the sky or something."

"Well, actually, there was something similar to that in the twelfth century but," he grimaced, "it wasn't nearly so cute as you might imagine."

Buffy thought of the reality of what she'd asked for and the collective Scoobies gave their own shudders of horror at about the same time.

"That's something like be careful what you wish for, isn't that right G-man?"

"Very nearly and please don't call me that."

There were piles of books everywhere around them. Research was proving fruitless so far into this new threat. They'd been there in the library nearly all night and on a Friday night when they could be Bronzing or something else that would be fun they were stuck here on the job, so to speak.

"The problem," Giles noted, picking up one of his precious books and turning it over in his hand, "is that what we're looking for is so obscure I'm not even sure it was ever properly written down anywhere."

"Why wasn't it written down?"

"Well, it's about the people that received the vision, I expect, and their lore. Some write certain events and foretellings down while others pass on the tradition orally. Ah, that is, by word of mouth."

"Ok, so, they're not hip to the written word. That's ok. Why don't we just track down someone in the know in this band of backwards natives and get the skinny that way?"

"Xander, it's not that simple. The tribe in question was wiped out hundreds of years ago."

"We absolutely need this, Giles? Can't we just try to find something else?"

Willow peeked out from behind the computer monitor, the glow of it illuminating her face in the dim light of the library. They'd been at it for hours and most of them were tired and, in the Slayer's case, frustrated and grumpy. She paced like a cat feeling pent up and eager to get this over with. Unfortunately Giles didn't feel like he could let her in good conscience without all the information.

"Unfortunately, Willow, this prophecy is the only thing I know of that has to do with this Krakatos demon. Without it I'm not sure I know what business he has on the Hellmouth or how to stop him if his intentions are less than stellar as I suspect."

"But he hasn't hurt anyone yet that we know of, right?"

"No one except a few vampires, yes."

"I'd say that's a win on the side of good, then."

"Buffy..."

"Since when is killing a couple of vamps a bad thing?"

"There's all manner of reasons why a demon might kill vampires and still be up to no good, Buffy."

"Those people," Willow's shy voice echoed from the behind the computer screen, "wouldn't happen to be called the Daskis tribe, would they? In Mesopotamia?"

Giles blinked. "They would."

"And this Krakatos demon is kind of greenish, with long horns and sort of a third eye on its forehead?"

"It is..." He started walking to where she was.

"Oh, good. Cause I found it."

"Online?" He couldn't believe it. Hours of research and what they needed was right under their noses on this...idiot box.

"Uh-huh."

"I give up..."


	16. Powder

She was about two seconds too late to stop her Watcher from getting hit with...sand? The confused Slayer watched as whatever it was hit Giles square in the face and then fell to the floor leaving him to pause and sneeze. The demon that threw it at him seemed to be waiting for a reaction and she capitalized on the opportunity by running him through with a sword. She watched as it fell, feeling accomplished, before turning her attention back on the man standing opposite her.

"What did he hit you with?"

"I don't know. Clearly he expected it to do something but I don't feel any differently. Perhaps it was simply a false alarm?"

"Not a lot of those to go around but he didn't seem to be the brightest crayon."

"Well, whatever it was we should go back and research this, in case there are more of them."

"And the powder stuff?"

"Until it does something there's really no way to determine what it is."

"I guess so."

Buffy slid her sword into its sheath after she wiped it clean on the body. She hardly thought about such things anymore; it was all just normal. Together she and Giles left the little cave behind and started the trek across the city toward his flat for, goody, another night of research. There would be the others to call and pizza to order but that would all be taken care of in due course. Demons, they found, usually appeared with a purpose. Especially when those demons seemed to have sought them out.

Her first clue that something was wrong was when Giles snickered out of no where.

"What?" she asked, glancing sideways. Was there a joke she didn't remember?

"Nothing." She straightened himself up. "It's nothing."

Shrugging, she went back to their silent journey until he snickered again. This time she stopped, causing him to pause too, and looks around.

"What's so funny? You're not a guy of many jokes so spill."

"No, honestly, it's nothing." He didn't stop grinning, though. "You look lovely tonight, Buffy."

"Thaaanks." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Where did that come from?"

"I'm not allowed to give you a compliment?"

"Not generally, no."

"I should start. You're ravishing."

"Ok, I'm getting the wiggins. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all."

He started walking again and she followed off behind him, eventually finding pace by his side. When they got to his door she waited for him to unlock it, looking into the courtyard for a minute while he fumbled with his keys. Before she knew it she was in his arms and he was nuzzling her affectionately. Her eyes widened and she tried to figure out what was happening. This, unfortunately, left her in his arms temporarily.

"You're so beautiful, Buffy. My heart is pudding in your hands."

"Giles?"

"I can't believe it took me until now to notice. You're perfect."

"Giles?" Her pitch increased in severity.

"Kiss me."

He leaned down and on instinct she shoved him away. He stumbled and fell back against the door frame, a hand over his heart and a surprised look on his face.

"Whoa there, Giles. Just...let me think, ok?"

Clearly, this was not the man she knew. He would be horrified to think he'd behaved this way. What changed? Oh, God, the powder! That stuff! That was making him act like this.

"You're not yourself, Giles. We'll get you help, ok?"

"The only help I need is your mercy, Buffy. Say you'll be mine and I'll conquer anything."

"God, will you listen to yourself?"

She could make a list of the atrocities he'd count when he was out from under whatever influence this was to kick himself or lament or whatever. She hardly thought she had to, though. At least it was fodder to tease him for the rest of his natural life. Buffy moved to the phone and he followed behind, trying to put his arms around her waist as she batted them away time and again. She dialed Willow first, thinking the witch would be more help than Xander.

"Will? Major emergency. No, no one's hurt but Giles...well, he'd getting kinda handsy."

She could only pray they found a cure soon as the man behind her giggled.


	17. Quiet

The night seemed like any other. The two slayers were walking through one of the many wooded areas of Sunnydale looking for a demon Giles found in his textbooks that matched a few murders. They were the ones to patrol the area to see what they could find out. Cause, you know, Watchers are fragile and if you break it, you bought it.

The brunette stopped the blond after a moment with a hand on her chest.

"Hear that?"

The blond paused and listened. Straining her hearing she had to eventually give up with a sigh. "Hear what? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. I mean, how big a forest do you suppose this is? Couple of miles across at least. There should be something out here. An owl, squirrels, vamps even. But there's nothing. Not even the wind."

Which was true. It had been so breezy that night Buffy brought a jacket when she left the house. Now there was not even a ripple in the night to let her know it wasn't all in her head earlier on. Once she was aware of how warm she was she slipped the garment from her shoulders and tied it around her waist.

"Ok," she admitted. "I'm wigged."

Faith seemed to share her sentiments. "Good call."

"Maybe we should get back to Giles. We could be walking into a trap."

"Sure. Lead the way."

It was then Buffy noticed another unfortunate thing. She started off in one direction, back the way they came, or so she thought, when she noticed a rock cropping she'd just seen in the opposite direction. She paused, looked around, and headed off in a different direction only to come to this same cropping. Panic started gripping her heart.

"We're lost aren't we?" The brunette asked.

"I don't think so."

"_Two little girlies lost in the wood._"

The voice echoed in the surprisingly quiet space and made an icy shiver crawl up Buffy's spine.

"_Should have brought a map, no doubt they should._"

Her eyes started searching for something, anywhere, that could be used as an effective weapon. With relief she saw Faith doing the same. They'd both seen the victims and it wasn't pretty. Seemed like they'd be taking this head on.

"_Two little girlies all pretty and sweet._"

Buffy screamed when she was faced with a demon that came out of no where and towered in front of her. His mouth was dripping blood and his huge rough hide looked nothing like the syrupy voice that was singing to them. He grabbed Buffy by her collar and pulled her body up off the ground to look it in the eye.

_"All the better for me to EAT!_"


	18. Resurrection

The air was so thick it was tangible.

"I don't belong here!" The words were louder than she intended and echoed off the walls around the two of them. His eyes moved to her body, closed off with arms crossed over her chest, but he didn't move to embrace her like her wanted to. What was instinct. She continued: just as loud and just as passionate. "You don't understand what it's like to be here, to walk around feeling the weight of everything. Things I never thought about before hurt. They hurt."

"Buffy…I…" He reached a hand out and wasn't surprised when she shied back from his touch. He wasn't really the one to blame, only the one she trusted enough to let go around.

"No one ever once thought that maybe I was better off dead. I died knowing everyone was safe and what I was doing was the right thing. Why couldn't you have just let me _rest_?"

"They were rash in what they did, that's true." He couldn't deny that and had chastised Willow upon finding out. He paused, though, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "But I can't say I'm sorry for it."

Her eyes strayed up to his from where she was, leaning against the wall. She didn't know how to respond but she thought about it a good long time. If there was ever a person she wanted to want her here it was him.

"It's so hard. I keep looking around and wondering what the point is. I don't feel anything..."

"Nothing?"

"No. I used to think everything was so simple, black and white, but now it's all grey, blurry. I'm always tired no matter how much I sleep."

"Well we knew there were certain, side-effects, of resurrection."

"This is different."

"But it will get better in time. We're all here for you. Whatever resentments and damage you hold on to we're waiting."

"I just want peace, Giles. I think I've earned that."

"You have but apparently your journey is not yet finished."

"Promise me. Promise me that next time they'll let me go."

He swallowed, hating it. "I promise."


	19. Singing

"Wait, why is she singing again?"

The Bollywood film they had playing didn't come with subtitles so they pretty much had to guess at the plot. All of them: Willow, Xander, Buffy, Giles, Dawn, all crammed onto his couch or just in front of it and watched. They turned simultaneously to look at Giles in the middle for translation but he shrugged. Their guess was good as his. He didn't speak Hindi.

"I think it has something to do with that goat."

"What goat."

"That one." Dawn pointed at the screen where, sure enough, the woman started singing to her goat. Or a goat. No one was sure.

"That seems awfully forward of her."

"Why does the goat care what she's singing?"

"Maybe it's a magic goat."

"That's silly. There's no such thing as a magic goat."

"Well, actually, back in the..."

"GILES!" A few voices chorused at the same time.

"Shhh!" that was Dawnie who was trying to pay attention.

They all watched in silence for a few more moments as the woman seemed to wander around her home singing to various random objects. First her goat, then a broom, and lastly to a water pitcher. She dumped the contents of the pitcher on herself and kept singing, now slightly sodden.

"So, wait, why did she wet herself?"

"Maybe it has something to do with the goat."

"She's sad."

"Sad?"

"Well, yeah. I mean happy people don't sing to furniture."

"Merlin did in the Sword and the Stone."

"That was a kid's movie, Will. Not a good reference."

"Still...he did!"

"Ok, yeah he did."

"Shhh! You guys! Something's happening!"

The woman was dancing now, the singing at a pause. She danced around a pond and her goat As she danced smoke started coming off the pond and when she was done a man stood where the goat had been and started singing to the woman.

"Wait, what just happened?"

"It is a magic goat! Told you!"

The man-goat kissed the woman when the song was over and the end credits started to roll. There was a beat or two of silence before Buffy mournfully cried.

"What just happened?"

"I have no clue."

"Well you were the one really watching it, Dawnie. If you don't know we sure won't."

Giles cleared his throat. "Rather simple, really. The maiden's true love was transformed into a goat by a powerful wizard until she could find the pond of restoration to turn him back into a man, which she did, singing about it in great length."

Xander looked amazed. "Really?"

"No, not really. I've no bloody idea." He started to chuckle. "Same time next week?"


	20. Thwarted

"You have to face it little Buffy, I'm not your boyfriend anymore. Doesn't that just break your heart?"

"I dunno. When I kill you will it break yours?" She paused, looking at the wooden stake in her hand. "Oh, I guess it will."

The vampire growled but knew that the girl could make very real on that threat. She was not the type to make them lightly and with her strength she could follow through. She was a tough little Slayer, he'd give her that.

"What about when your family is all broken and bleeding around you? You'll be begging me to kill you then."

She got pissed. She'd had enough of his torments, of his teasing. If he wasn't the man she loved so be it but she wasn't breaking. In fact, he was making her stronger.

"Do I look dead to you? I died once and it didn't stick. What makes you think you can do better?" She put her hands on her hips, eyes blazing like the sun. "You aren't hurting me anymore. The man I loved wouldn't hurt me. The more you torment me the more you convince me how little you're like him. You're not going to kill me. I'm going to stop you and I'm going to enjoy doing it."


End file.
